


Mission Journal: The Seduction of Peter Bishop

by HeartAndImagination



Category: Fringe
Genre: Deception, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartAndImagination/pseuds/HeartAndImagination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for Fringe Kink Meme: "That first night from Liv's POV"  Peter x Red Olivia</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission Journal: The Seduction of Peter Bishop

_Was I really going to go through with it?_  
  
His not-so-subtle hint at the restaurant gave me quite the jolt. It was difficult for me to assess how to handle his suggestive talk, as I did not know much about his relationship status with their Dunham. It became clear that they never slept together. He obviously wanted it, but was too much of a gentleman to actually say it. From what I was able to surmise, Peter treaded very lightly when it came to romance with her. And because of his caution, I was in this unwanted predicament.  
  
From my initial reading of his files, I gathered that Peter is brilliant. That is no surprise as he is the son of Secretary Bishop and his mother is no intellectual slouch, either. I was for sure that I was caught when he started to make connections between shape-shifters replacing government officials and how I was, well, acting “off” to him. Newton, I hated to admit, had hit the nail right on the head regarding my inner turmoil. I knew what he knew—that even the most intellectual man can be brought down with an age old temptation and distraction– a good old-fashioned fuck. But was I willing to cross that line?  
  
Indeed I was. I knew that he was down at his favorite pub, most likely analyzing my actions over and over in his head. He’d pick up on something. I had to do it, and soon. A simple text, and before I knew it, he was at my door. Dunham had him trained well.  
  
I grabbed him, and soon had him right where I wanted him. He smelled of French fries, cheap whiskey, and leather -- which combined with my nervousness and uncertainty--made me semi-nauseous. Not exactly the best way to convince him that I was his Olivia. With each sloppy kiss, his stubble raked my skin, and I shivered, not because it was pleasant, but because I thought of Frank’s baby-smooth face.  
  
My darling, Frank; off saving the world in North Texas. I prayed that he would understand that I was saving our world in my own way.  
  
Peter’s kisses were all up and down my neck, and I found his heavy, liquored breath repugnant. I felt his hands grab my ass, and then he pressed us up against the wall, as he ground his hips forward into me. This was when the reality of what I was doing really hit home; I could feel Peter’s desire through the soft, worn denim fabric of his jeans--rock hard, on fire, and demanding to be finally be set free. I used to find the concept of time slowing down to be impossibly funny, but at that moment of do-or-die, time seemed to painfully inch by. Large hands moved up the front of my shirt, fumbled with buttons, and I could swear that they were shaking – he was trembling?  
  
Jackets were shed, and I decided to make our way to the bedroom, lest he take me against the wall. Shirts soon followed. I tried my best to go with it, but could not help but to compare him to Frank and his Adonis six pack. Peter is just a lanky, but fit man. Frank is a borderline god. One thing I could give him; Peter was a very attentive and involved lover.  
  
He rolled my breasts in his hands, and pinched the nipples, which grew solid to his touch. He cupped and softly massaged them, all the while quietly murmuring how beautiful I was in between his tender kisses. At this point, I could have made any excuse –from telling him that we were going too fast, to birth control issues—delaying the inevitable.  
  
I told myself that I could literally have him in the palm of my hand. I just had to garner the courage to go through with the deed. I made up my mind to fully play the part of a long-denied lover, thinking that Peter would analyze our lovemaking later, when he had his full cognitive faculties. We dipped back onto the mattress, and it was kind of funny how Peter cursed all of the pillows and the huge comforter that adorned the bed. After he tossed pillows in every direction, and threw the comforter down, I made the move for his zipper. He gasped as I pulled his jeans swiftly down his legs, boxers and all, revealing all of his male glory to me. And I do mean glory.  
  
Peter is impressive enough, and this is where he compares favorably to Frank; more like has him beat hands-down. I decided at this point that if I was going to go through with sleeping with Peter, I might as well attempt to enjoy it.  
  
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and wrapped my hand around the base of his thick, pulsing girth, stroked a few times. He was softly saying my –her—name, his eyes fluttering in the back of his head. I jerked when I felt his hand at my core, which was naturally wet. Long nimble fingers toyed with the outer bits, and then his fingers –one, two, and then three— pumped, curved, and worked genuine pleasure into the act. He told me with a shy grin, “It’s been a while for me, so please don’t judge if I’m a bit rusty. This first time, I’m all yours, Sweetheart. Whatever you want to do, I’m at your service.” He withdrew his coated fingers from me, and made a show of licking them off, and he lightly growled, “Damn, ‘Livia, you taste so divine. I could taste more of you, if you want.”  
  
God, this was hot. I actually contemplated his offer – what woman turns down a good licking? I made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and just for a moment, I felt a sting of remorse for doing what I was about to do to this man. His blue eyes were blown wide with lust, but he also had a reverence in them. His goofy, ‘I’m so in love’ smile was just all too precious. Cocky, globe-trotting Peter Bishop turned out to be a pussycat in bed, clearly deeply in love with the woman that he thought he was about to make love to. This was more than just raw sex for him – it was to truly be an expression of intense love.  
  
But I shook myself out of that weakness; that feeling sorry for the enemy. Most of all, I was overwhelmed with fear; this fear of being found out as an imposter gave me resolve. I did not want to admit that I may have gotten myself in too deep. I was going to be in this universe for God-only-knew how long, before I reached my objectives. I had to be as convincing as possible, not only for my own life, but for billions of others. Billions depended on me sleeping with this man. Frank would never know—I had a birth control implant. Why did I feel so ashamed? I would not be the first nor last woman to figuratively take one for the team.  
  
This man that turned his back on his own people—his own father and mother. He did not deserve pity. _I thought that I should enjoy crushing his heart._  
  
With an all-too-devilish smile on my face, I straddled across his hips, his intimidating erection positioned right behind me. As I kissed him, I simply whispered hot into his ear, “I want you fast and rough, for tonight.”  
  
He drawled something out like… “Er… OK… Yes, ma’am. Um… I just need to grab a condom out of my jacket. Sorry, I should have thought of that earlier…”  
  
I quickly assured him that we were covered by pointing to a small scar on my arm. And before he could think, say no, or act any further, I grabbed a hold of him and slid most of him into my prepared, slick body, and teased him, while my walls clinched enticingly around him. Bingo. He grabbed my hips and thrust upward, with a slight grunt and a long, pleasured moan. His hands then went right to cupping my face between them, and the intensity of his gaze scared me, to the point of holding my breath. I almost expected for him to call foul and handcuff me to the bed, while making a call to Fringe Division that his woman had been replaced. But no, this fear was unfounded. Bishop--writhing and sighing in ecstasy beneath me--was completely fooled.  
  
One of his hands stroked my clit, as I leaned forward and rode him. He wanted to kiss me as much as possible, and I really did not want to; so I sat up straight on him, in order to avoid it. He tossed his head back as he enjoyed being fully buried inside me. He became forceful and pulled me down to him, so I decided to just let my mind go while kissing him. I thought of everything that I was fighting for at home; anything to keep me from dwelling on the fact that I might have actually enjoyed fucking this man.  
  
It did not help that he arched his hips into me in such a manner as to exactly hit my sweet spot, which caused a long, intense and wet orgasm to roll over my entire body. I literally quivered from head to toe, and called out his name—not sure if that was an act thrown in for good measure… All the while he ground back into me furiously, his fountain soon released inside. The headboard pounded hard with his final upward thrusts, and both of us were breathing like there was no more air, and sweat glistened off of our overheated bodies.  
  
Oh, God. He wanted to snuggle. He’s a snuggler. The LAST thing I wanted to do at that moment was curl up with him. I gave him a long, kiss then excused myself to the bathroom.  
  
It was so confusing. My body had betrayed me as it thoroughly enjoyed the physical act with him. But I could not help but sit on the closed toilet with the shower running, crying for what I had to do. HAD TO DO. In the shower, I vigorously scrubbed my body, wanting every trace of him to be gone. But my mind could not be cleansed. I toweled off, put on some pajamas, and made my way to the bed. Peter was mercifully already asleep, and lightly snoring.  
  
It dawned on me that this was just the start. I had possibly months of this to look “forward” to.

 

But the worst part was that I didn’t know whether to cry or smile.


End file.
